There isn't a lot of room at an airport.
Sure, when you walk up to it with your luggage in one hand and your whining kid in the other, it seems pretty big. The airplane hangars alone take up enough space, and the terminal just about consumes the entire building; creating in itself a mall and a living room all in one. The airport turns into a giant store instead of a place to exchange travelers all of a sudden, swallowing people up and spitting them out at whatever destination it is that they need to get to.
You see it on the highway when you're driving alongside of it, finding it hard to avoid staring at the planes that wait on their lunch break until their next takeoff in the hangar, and still feeling your heart skip a beat when a plane that once looked so small in the sky is now swooping down over your car, looking more terrifying than Godzilla.
Rachel hates airports. And not a normal kind of toss-the-word around hate. She hates them with same fury she saves up for flip phones and people who still use Zunes.
And Rachel doesn't hate anything.
She stands around for a while to begin with, not knowing what to do with herself. There isn't much to do, really. The off-white washed walls are enough to make a hospital look cozy (why the words hospital and hospitable sound so alike, she'll never know), and the little plastic chairs that people occupy look like they would fall somewhere between a bed of nails and an electric chair on the comfort scale.
She doesn't know why she's here, really.
A million people (no, 7 billion, she corrects herself) in the world and she's the one that's doing this?
Rachel Berry's always been the fly on the wall that no one's bothered to notice – or, at least if they did, it was to tell her that her nose was too big or her hair was too dark or she was too short. She never received much positive reinforcement from her peers growing up, finding that most of the compliments she received in life came from her father and mother. Rachel's always been the quiet girl tat nurses a Sprite in a plastic red cup in the corner of a party. She's there; you just don't know that she is.
She doesn't really want you to know, either.
Rachel watches as a plane descends down onto the tarmac of the airport, finding more interest in looking out the large floor-to-ceiling windows that seem to be a staple at every airport. She makes a mental note that if this is indeed his plane, to smile and wave and even offer him a hug or two. Be polite. Offer to take his luggage out to your car for him.
Just don't bring up the time he and his friends rigged a bucket of fruit punch to spill on you in front of everyone at junior prom.
A woman that works at the airport walks towards the podium that's by the door to the entryway of the plane, which she can see them setting up now from outside.
She's tall, leggy, and blonde. A million dollar smile and a coiffed hairstyle to match. She's the ideal woman to work at an airport.
"Now arriving, New York City to Lima."
Her voice sounds like a toothpaste commercial.
The plane takes a while to unload all of its passengers; women with crying babies in their arms and businessmen trying to juggle their cell phones and carry-ons, tourists who snap a picture with the cameras dangling around their necks of everything their eyes discover. It makes Rachel wonder why anyone would ever come to Lima as a tourist attraction, but she decides that she can't judge anyone for it. It's not her fault she's spent her entire life in Ohio, and to each his own, anyway.
Rachel stands up on her toes and anxiously searches the crowds of people for his face, wondering if she'll recognize him. It's been seven years, after all, with four years of college lumped in there somewhere. College changes you from the inside out, and that's what she's thinking has happened to her. If she can remember correctly, Finn never went to college, but she did. She's changed a lot. Maybe Finn will notice how much she's changed and it will affect how he treats her. Maybe he's matured and he can look at her and hold a civil conversation with her without making a jab at how she looks or walks or speaks.
Then again, he could always just stay the same way forever.
She waits for him anxiously, hoping that at the very least he recognizes her. Rachel doesn't even know why he had called her in the first place. Maybe all of his friends from high school have disowned him because they've already changed and think he's a jerk, just how she thought he was in high school. Or maybe none of his friends live in Lima anymore. Maybe they all moved off to do bigger and better things.
Rachel hears the clicking sound of crutches from the hall and pricks up her ears, wondering if it's Finn.
The most hated person in her life for four years, and he's on crutches. Maybe it's some stupid ploy to make her feel bad for him despite all he's done to her.
She can't help but suppress a small smile when she sees him hobble into the lobby, looking much different than she remembers him. His hair has been cut into a military buzz cut, or whatever the official name is, his face not as freckled as she once remembered it to be. He wears a military uniform and rests on a pair of crutches, looking pained as he makes his way towards her.
Maybe she's wrong to still believe that he's so horrible. He is on crutches, after all.
Her heart stammers slightly and she doesn't know why. There's no sentiment or apathy felt for Finn. There never really was to begin with.
Finn's eyes scan the airport for a moment, Rachel wondering if he's actually looking for her. Maybe this is all one big joke he's playing on her. Maybe Quinn Fabray and Noah Puckerman are going to jump out and tell her that she's a sucker and she's stupid for thinking that Finn would ever actually want to spend time with her.
She bites down on her lip, watching his eyes fall on her. She looks down at the ground, hoping he doesn't recognize her completely. She's changed enough. Maybe he won't think that she's ugly anymore, if anything.
"Rachel?" He asks, looking like he's struggling with his backpack. She looks up at him through her eyelashes and crosses her arms over her chest. He makes his way towards her, stumbling slightly with his crutches. Rachel wonders if he's expecting her to run up to him and hug him, or something stupid. Just because he's in the army doesn't mean that he's actually changed. You wear a green uniform and carry a gun and everyone thinks you're a hero.
"Hi," she says, waving at him slightly. She doesn't really want to talk to him. She doesn't really want to talk to anyone. All she wants to do is go home and forget about anything that's ever happened between her and Finn Hudson.
"Rachel Berry," he says, looking at her as he sports a toothy grin. She looks at him and nods, sighing to herself.
"Finn Hudson," she says, the words sour in her mouth. She doesn't want to see him or speak to him or acknowledge him ever again, and she's never thought that she would ever have to see him ever again. The day Rachel graduated was supposed to mark the day she would never have to see Finn Hudson ever again. Now, it's like every promise she made to herself when she was eighteen has just been flushed down a big, metaphorical toilet.
She doesn't understand why all of these feelings from high school need to be regurgitated all over again.
"You look… wow," he says, still looking at her. Rachel wants to roll her eyes and walk away, not having to handle spending any more time with him.
"You too," she says, not necessarily lying. Finn's always been handsome; she's never been able to deny that. It's just his personality that's always trumped his hazel eyes and the freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose and how Rachel knows that she would be able to fit under his arm perfectly if he ever tried to fit her under there. She can't look away from him in the army uniform and crutches; not looking like himself. She doesn't want to stare at him and make him feel uncomfortable in anyway, but the more she thinks about it, the more she remembers how Finn used to do the same things to her when they were younger – but not in a good way.
She sees him, however. He's already taken note of what she's doing.
"Yeah, um, I don't mind if you stare at my leg," he tells her with a laugh as he looks down at his leg. "I got released on an honorable discharge. I got shot in the leg, and-"
"Oh, God," Rachel says, interrupting him. She puts her hand up to her mouth and gasps slightly. She never would have guessed that Finn would have gotten shot when he had been shipped out to the military upon graduation, nor did she wish it upon him. "Wow, Finn, I'm sorry. That sort of stuff comes with the territory though, doesn't it?" She doesn't mean to sound rude, it's just the way she comes off some times. He can't be too upset with her. He's been rude to her longer than he can probably remember.
"Yeah," he says, looking at her. She wonders why he keeps his eyes so dutifully trained on her while he speaks to her. No man has ever looked at her this way, especially one like Finn Hudson. She's always been that kind of girl; getting noticed by people who others would rather ignore all together. She's never been the most beautiful girl in the room, nor has she ever had a man actively pine after her that she's been mutually interested in.
"I didn't think you would still be in the army," she says, looking around the airport, trying to do everything in her power to look away from him. "I read something somewhere about how most people who join the military straight out of high school choose not to serve about a year into their training, or whatever." She looks back up at him, noticing him stare at her. She doesn't like it. His eyes trained on her and not turned into some cruel smirk that she's grown so accustomed to seeing.
"I never really thought that I was going to get shot in the leg," he tells her, laughing bitterly. He forces a smile and Rachel wants nothing more than to roll her eyes at his cheesy smile ad undeniable schmaltz that he's trying to push on her.
"I'm sorry," she says, her voice quiet. She looks down at her feet and crosses her arms over her chest. She doesn't want to seem cold and mean; he's been that way towards her enough already.
There's a long beat of silence between them, Rachel unsure of what to do about it. She doesn't understand what she's doing at the airport, or why she's the one that needs to pick Finn up and be the first person he sees now that he's back from Iraq or Afghanistan or wherever he's coming from.
That and he won't stop staring at her. His eyes look at her and rake her over like she's some artifact in a museum. It's not in an objectifying way, but she doesn't like it. She doesn't like him, so she doesn't like him staring at him.
"Well, why don't we go get your luggage and get going," she tells him, turning around and walking towards the direction of the luggage carousels. Maybe if she rushes through the time she needs to spend with Finn, it will go by faster. It's the least she can do.
:.:.:
Rachel's never driven this fast before. She's packed all of his bags into the backseat of her car and told him to sit in the front next to her. She starts driving faster than she knows is safe, but she doesn't really care. All Rachel wants to do is get Finn to whatever hotel he's planning on staying at and go home so she can talk to Kurt about how one of her worst enemies from high school is back to haunt her again.
"So, how have you been, Rachel?" Finn asks, breaking the silence between them. His voice frightens her and she doesn't want to say anything. Rachel tries to think of a lie that will get her out of needing to tell him anything about herself. He doesn't need to know anything about her.
"Fine," she says plainly, keeping her eyes trained on the road ahead of her. Rachel bites down on her lip and doesn't want to say anything else, but she can see Finn looking at her out of the corner of her eye. "I haven't really done anything special since you've seen me last, I guess." Finn rolls his eyes and smiles.
"Please," he tells her, Rachel wanting to cringe every time she hears him try to speak to her. "Last time I saw you, you were all ready to go to school and become a 'big, independent woman,' or whatever." He laughs. "I'm sure you've done some pretty amazing things since then."
"I'm a music teacher now," she confesses. "I teach at Newport, actually." She looks at Finn, hoping he'll remember.
"Oh," he says, nodding along with the words she says. "Does it look the same?" He pauses and looks at her, Rachel turning her head to look at her for the first time since getting in the car.
"Yeah," she says, smiling sweetly. It's the first time she's bothered to show any kind of outward kindness towards him all day, and much to her surprise, it doesn't make her feel horrible. Rachel thought that showing Finn any kind of kindness or sympathy would make her feel guilty or horrible, but it doesn't. Rachel isn't a horrible person, she just feels like she needs to be when she's around Finn. He's never been nice to her, so she's made the decision to not be nice to him, even though she knows that two wrongs don't make a right. Part of her wonders if he feels bad now that she's being rude and choosing to ignore him, but she decides that it's just as well. Finn's made her feel like she's the most hated person on earth for seven years, so maybe it's fair that she gets to treat him the way he treated her in high school – even if it's only for twenty minutes inside her car. "It's kind of funny, actually," she continues, smiling softly. "Do you remember how there was that poster of the rabbit washing its hands in the cafeteria?" Rachel's smile becomes bigger and she looks over at Finn, giggling. The poster she describes is one that had become a staple of her childhood; remembering it in the back of her head every time she did so much as go to the doctor or be told to wash her hands by her parents as a little girl.
"Yeah," he says, grinning. "That creepy ass rabbit with the pink overalls." He laughs and looks out his window. "That's still there?"
Rachel nods and laughs to herself. She can't really believe it either, simply because the poster is so old and Finn actually remembers it. She vaguely remembers the two of them going to elementary school together. It's not like high school, where most of their past is. Elementary school was a happier time. Finn would sit next to Rachel in class and tell her that her hair looked pretty when her mother would put it in braids every Friday or that he actually wanted to be on her team for soccer when they would play it in second grade gym class.
"Yes," she says, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel. They've hit traffic and her car slowly comes to a halt; Rachel knowing that she's finally going to have to face the inevitable task of holding an actual conversation with Finn instead of just wasting time with small talk and awkward pauses. "I mean, I don't spend much time in the cafeteria, but, you know, the music classroom is right outside the cafeteria, so I've seen it… more than a couple of times."
Finn looks at her with a smile, shifting in his chair as best as he can. He lets out a small groan and Rachel turns to look at him, afraid that he's actually hurt himself. Whether he had been horrible to her in high school or not, there's still a part of Rachel that wants to make sure that Finn feels good as long as he's in her care. He just looks at her and nods his head; a silent reminder that he's fine without his crutches or some giant bandage around his leg.
There's a pause between them and Rachel sighs, staring out the windshield at the traffic ahead of them. "Oh, um, you should probably tell me which hotel you're staying at," she tells him, clenching her jaw. "I can drop you off there and help you with your bags if you'd like." She looks back out on the road, feeling Finn turn his head to face her. The silence between them makes her feel like she's ready to explode; the tension in her small car palpable.
"I… I was kind of hoping that I would stay with you," he confesses, looking down into his lap and drumming his fingers together. Rachel looks at him, not understanding what he means. He can't actually be serious. When she had picked him up, Rachel was under the assumption that Finn had a hotel to stay at for however long he was here. Now that he's telling her that he needs a place to stay, she feels like she's going have her car collide with the one ahead of them and her head is going to explode all at the same time.
"Um, Finn, I… sure," she says, giving in to his request. She's not about to leave him out on the street after arriving back home for the first time. "Don't you have other people to stay with?"
"Not really," he tells her, Rachel quirking an eyebrow. She goes through a mental checklist of what her apartment looks like at the moment, and isn't too proud the longer she thinks about it. "I mean, I do, they're just all gone right now. Noah lives in California now, and Quinn… well, I'm not going to stay with Quinn. That would just be awkward."
"Why?"
"Because she's a girl."
"I'm a girl."
He sighs and looks at her, smiling slightly. "Yeah, but… I don't know, Rachel. You're different." She rolls her eyes and does everything in her power not to look at him. Knowing Finn, and if nothing's changed about him since high school, he's looking at her right now with some stupid puppy dog pout stuck to his face, as if it's going to sway her in any way. "Look, I totally get it if you can't, and I can find a hotel right away, I just thought that-"
"No, it's fine," she says, feeling something in her gut tell her that she's making the wrong decision. "Really."
Finn looks at her with a broad smile. "You're sure? Like, you don't have a boyfriend or anything, do you?"
Rachel bites down on her lip and tips her head to the side, trying her best not to look as bitter as she feels. "No," she tells him, shaking her head. "No boyfriend." She wonders if she would even have her boyfriend live with her if she were to have one. Rachel's always wondered what it must feel like to have that kind of relationship with a person; to share a home with them and experience living with them despite the fact that you're not married to them. There's a certain something that comes along with sharing a bed and a bathroom and a DVR that feels so domestic and wonderful and so out of reach to Rachel.
"Great," he tells her, beaming. She knows that he doesn't understand the negative connotation that comes along with what he's saying, but she shrugs it off. "I mean, I only want to do this if you're comfortable with it, Rachel," he tells her, sounding like he's trying to balance on a tightrope. Rachel doesn't understand why he's all of a sudden feeling the need to tread on eggshells while talking to her. She's a normal person that just wants to have a normal conversation with somebody. The fact that it's someone who made her life a living hell for four consecutive years shouldn't have anything to do with it.
No, I don't want you to stay at my house, she thinks to herself, the traffic finally beginning to ease up and causing Rachel to step on the accelerator. You and your friends made fun of me all through high school for not having boobs, so I don't think that would make me want to provide you with shelter for you while you're back at home for whatever reason.
Part of her wants to do it only because of his leg, but she knows that would just make her sound like a big, stupid sap. Kurt won't be very proud of her once he learns that she's harboring someone who tortured her at one point in her life just for the hell of it. Maybe she should stop being so goddamn maternal when the only person she really has in her life to be maternal towards is Berkley, her cat. Just because she has all of these pent up feelings of wanting to care for and nurture doesn't mean she should allow Finn to stay in her house.
"Um, I'm not going to lie to you though; my apartment's pretty small." She runs over the floor plan of her 550 square-foot apartment in her head, trying to think of a place she can squeeze Finn in without putting herself in a compromising position. "You could sleep on the couch, I guess. It's not really a couch, I guess, it's more of a futon, so you can pull it out at night and it turns into a bed." She's started to ramble now, making her want to tear her hair out. Whether or not she likes Finn, Rachel doesn't want to come across like a complete moron. "So, you know. If that's alright, then you can-"
"That's fine," he tells her, not tearing his eyes away from her. Rachel wishes that he would just look out the window or down in his lap or at his phone, or something. Anything but looking at her right now would be fabulous. "I mean, I don't want to impose on you or whatever, Rachel." She turns to face him and smiles softly, maybe the first real smile she's bothered to offer him since his plane has touched down in Lima.
"Well, we'll just get you all settled, then."